Teardrops On My Pillow
by FoxfaceWeasley
Summary: It's the night after the battle, and Lee's feeling awful. It's not his fault, he knows that, but he still feels like running through a window. Written from his POV. Written for the After The Battle Challenge on HPFC. Read and Review!


**Teardrops On My Pillow.**  
**Lee Jordan's POV - Written for the "After The Battle" Challenge on HPFC.  
Disclaimer: Do you not get it by now? I'm not JK Rowling, I don't own Harry Potter or any of it's characters, and I am not making money from this work. Have a nice day.**

I didn't know that this is how it would pan out. I did, but I didn't. I knew that people would die, but I wanted it to be like in muggle fairy-tales; where only the bad guys die and all of the good guys lived. I knew that people would change, but I didn't know that I would be one of them. I knew that our lives would never be the same again, but I thought it would be for the better, not for worse. I didn't know that I would feel so dead inside. I didn't know that death bought so much pain. I didn't know that there was no way that we would ever get over the things we had seen.

I make it sound like I've been hit the worst. And to me, I have been. But then again, I know I'm not. But we were the best of friends. Nothing could separate us all. The terrible trio, as we were known. The spectacular six, if you include the girls too. But now... There's a missing link in all of them. You can't take one side of a triangle and fix the two back together, because you don't have a shape any more. You can't take one side of a hexagon and remodel it, because it looks deformed and even if you did, and other people thought it was fine, you'd know that it wasn't. You'd know that there was something wrong. It's like a house of cards. It takes a while to build, or for some people just a few minutes. But if you take one of the cards out, the whole thing crashes to the floor and even though you can re-build it, it will never be exactly the same again.

Our friendship was like a lot of pieces of paper. Strong when united, but as one goes, we get weaker. And then another goes, and weaker still. And then another, and another, and another until all of us are alone, weak and vulnerable. That's how Katie, Angelina, Alicia, George and I are going to end up. Because Fred's gone, and George will go. And then Alicia will go, probably to persue a career in Quidditch or something amazing that only she could make cool. And then Angelina and Katie will go, because their best friend is gone, and then we'll all go our seperate ways, and only be left with memories of happiness, not remembering what the feeling is really like after so long without it.

The doorbell to my crappy apartment rings, and I grumble as I rise from my bed. I take a little detour to the kitchen to get a bottle of firewhiskey before looking through my peep-hole. I grumble even more, wanting to be alone tonight. I don't want to be seen in this mess, because it's the night after the battle, and I feel like throwing myself out of a window. Which doesn't sound like such a bad idea.  
"What do you want, Alicia?" I sigh, bringing the bottle up to my lips and taking a long gulp.  
"Lovely to see you too. I'm checking up on everyone, want to make sure that no-one's done anything drastic," she says, taking the bottle gently from my hands and taking a glug of the stuff herself. When she lowers it, her eyes squeeze up tightly and I smirk a little. "What?"  
"You. That's a man's drink," I say, pulling her inside by the arm and closing the door. We walk through to the kitchen and I get her a bottle of firewhiskey for herself, so she doesn't keep drinking mine, and pass it to her, taking my own back. She hops up onto the countertop and holds the bottle between her legs, which are crossed, and looks down at it.

"Lee, he's gone," she whispers, finally drinking some of the throat-burning stuff that I went to so much effort to get for her.  
"I know, Leesh," is all I can say, and I lift the bottle again, only to find it empty. I chuck it mindlessly to the side and grab another, opening it and taking a gut-wrenching amount. I close my eyes as the familar numbness that the drink brings spreads throughout my body, and I feel a warm sensation in my throat.  
"I can't get my head around it. When he was lying there, grinning like he was, I just expected him to sit up and tell us how dumb we were for believing he was dead. And he didn't... And I didn't know what to do with myself," she closes her eyes as if trying to retrieve the memory, and all I can say is "I know, Leesh," again. Tears form in her eyes, and I know it isn't a good time to be thinking it, but she looks beautiful. See, it makes me sound like the total arse I'm starting to believe I am. But her long, brown hair is falling out of her ponytail, and the baggy jumper and jeans she's wearing don't make her look unattractive in the least. Maybe it's because I've never seen her a hundred percent natural, or because she's covered in scars and bruises, or because I'm on my third bottle of firewhiskey, or because we both need a shoulder to cry on, but I want to push away from this wall and smother her in kisses, hugs, and tell her that it will be okay. But, as a toad-faced, cat obsessed, pink-wearing twat of a woman that I know once said "I must not tell lies".

"Lee, tell me it'll be okay," she almost pleads, and I feel myself starting to tear up. I don't speak. "Lee!" she prompts, trying to get me to reassure her, something that I know I can't do.  
"I wish I could, Leesh," is all I can choke out, and it escapes my lips as more of a slur of words than a fully formed sentence.  
"Lee!" she cries, hopping down from the counter-top and letting the tears fall down her face. "I need someone to do that! I need someone strong, who can hold me in their arms while I sob uncontrollably, and someone who can kiss my forehead and tell me that we can move past it! Lee, please," she screams, but her voice drops to a whisper as she says the last part. When I can only stand there, with my hands limply at my sides, she turns on the spot and disapparates with a crack, leaving me alone again.

I scream out in anger and punch the wall closest to me, running back to my room and collapsing in a heap on my bed. I bring the firewhiskey up to my lips with shaking hands and neck the rest of it, throwing the bottle against the wall with the hand that isn't trapped underneath my shaking body.  
"You can't go on like this," a voice in the back of my mind that sounds a lot like Angelina tells me.  
"I know," I whisper, curling up in a ball. Never in my life have I felt as pathetic and vulnerable as this.  
"We'll be okay," a second voice tells me, this time one that sounds like Katie. It's so realistic, and I swear I feel a hand resting on my shoulder. Instinctively I raise my own hand to touch it, to hold it, get some reassurance from it, but it isn't there.  
"No we won't. We'll never be okay," I say bluntly, willing my eyes to close and to fall asleep. I realize that I'll be having a sleepless night. Week. Month. However long it takes me to get over this whole thing.

"Yes we will. We'll move past it, and we'll laugh about the times we shared, and we'll miss Fred, sure. But we need each other, and in time we'll be fine," a third voice tells me, and this time it's Alicia. Only, not the Alicia Spinnet I was just talking to. Not the girl with tears falling down her face, full of anger and hatred. The old Alicia, who could make anyone believe anything. The Alicia who had me convinced for a year and a half that there was an army of trolls living down in the dungeons that the Slytherins talked to.  
"Keep your face to the sunshine and you will never see the shadows," a fourth voice, this one George's, says. I can't help but smile at this, because it's something George would never say. Maybe it was Fred's voice, but he would never say it either. It's one of them, though. The smile is wiped off my face when I hear the next voice.  
"Lee," and this one sounds so real that it could be in my room with my at this moment. "Lee, he wouldn't want this." The voice brings tears to my eyes, and I want to scream again.  
"How do you know?" I hiss, scowling at the voices, wishing them to stop.  
"Because, I'm a mother. Mothers know everything. Especially your own," she says soothingly, and I relax a bit. Not much, but my muscles aren't about to snap from tension.  
"Just go away!" I cry out, and they stop. I realize that it was my own imagination, and I feel so stupid. Telling my friends to go away, when they weren't even here in the first place.

That bloody doorbell rings again, and the first time, I ignore it. Then it goes again, and I ignore it, again. There's a crack, and the person apparates inside my apartment, much to my annoyance. I'm about to scream for them to go away, that I want to be alone, when four people all walk through the door at once. My friends, who I was talking to not five minutes ago, are all stood inside my room, while I'm curled up in a ball. I don't get up, I don't move, but I acknowledge them. None speak, and I don't expect them to. They just stand there, each with a bottle of MY firewhiskey in their hands.  
"To Fred Weasley. Best friend, prankster, twin, son and legend. We will never forget you," George says after clearing his throat. The others all raise their bottles and say "To Fred" in unison. They look at me expectantly, and I show them that I don't have one. Angelina nudges Katie in the ribs, who winces and hurries off to get one. She puts it in my hands and raises it for me.  
"To Fred," I mutter, and they all break into grins. Of what? Happiness? Because if they've found it, I want to know where. Because I'm void of the stuff right now. And I'm convinced I always will be.

**Love it? Hate it? Cry? Laugh? Press the wickle button down there for me and tell me what you thought? I deserve a review, my laptop died in the middle of writing this and I had to re-write the whole thing. Thanks for reading, review, subscribe and enjoy your day:3**


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